Bayou Betrayal (13 page)

Silence prevailed but for only a short moment.

Felicia's eyes filled with moisture. “This is perfect. A new way to build positive memories, yes? But as soon as Luc gets home tomorrow, we'll contact the estate attorney. You should not pay for what should be yours to begin with. The trust will reimburse you for the selling price.”

He'd been right. The relief marched across Monique's face.

Gary wasn't able to explain why his heart thrummed over her being reassured. Well, he probably could, but wouldn't. Not yet.

“I
t's a match.”

Gary looked up from his computer and stared at Bob Costigan, standing in the sheriff's office doorway. “Huh?”

Bob shot him a look of disgust. “The samples from Fenton's place? It's a match to the accelerant used in the Harris fire.”

“Then we need to talk to Mr. Fenton. Get information on who he's selling to.”

“Why do you think I'm here? Fenton stonewalled me—said he didn't have to give me information. Maybe your badge will change his mind. Get off your duff, and let's go.”

“Hang on, let me see if his background check has come back yet.” He lifted the phone and buzzed the intercom. “Missy, have you gotten the report on Fenton yet?”

The sound of shuffling papers drowned out her humming. “Yep, came in this morning with the FedEx deliveries.”

He wanted to sigh. She should've sent that report to his office as soon as it came in. “I'll come get it.” He dropped the phone back to its cradle and nodded at Bob. “Just a second. We got the report in.”

Making fast tracks down the hall to the front reception area, Gary took the folder from Missy's outstretched hand. He flipped through pages as he walked back to the office. No outstandings. No priors, unless you counted the DUI eight years ago.

“Anything?” Bob asked as Gary returned to the office.

“Nothing useful.” He passed the folder to Bob, who perused it.

“Worthless. Let's go talk to him.”

Gary logged off his system, told Mike where he would be and followed Bob out the door. “Let's take the cruiser, looks more official.”

Bob nodded and headed to the car. “I hope he's more cooperative with you along.”

“I'd hate to have to hunt down a judge to get a warrant to look over his client list.”

Bob only grunted as Gary spun the cruiser toward Un-Bio-Believable. “I still think there's an angle between father, son and Ms. Harris.”

Discord filled Gary's senses. He'd tried to disregard Parker because of that uncommon feeling of jealousy, but what if his cop's instinct caused his dislike of the guy? What were the odds that Monique's Realtor was the son of the man who sold the accelerant used to burn down her first house in Lagniappe? He kept reminding himself that she'd been the one to contact Parker, based on Hattie's recommendation, not the other way around. Still…

“I guess we'll find out more when we talk to Terrence Fenton.” Gary pushed down his personal feelings and turned onto the dead-end road on the edge of town Bob had indicated.

“Well, here we are.” The arson investigator pointed at a corner lot just ahead. “That's the place.”

A big warehouse stood alone on the property, with two large holding tanks, approximately six feet tall and eight feet in diameter. Together, they probably held about a thousand gallons of the fuel.

Gary whipped the car into the lot, then he and Bob headed into the office. The room reeked, like walking into a bring-aburger joint and sidling up to the deep fryers.

A freestanding counter divided the small space. Two metal folding chairs leaned against the wall by the door with a single window sporting dirty panes, while a desk and a small computer setup stood on the other side. A lone, ancient copier occupied the corner.

A man with thinning gray hair and skin the texture of leather sat behind the desk. He glanced up, recognized Bob and stood. Apprehension jumped in his body language. “Can I help you?”

“We've matched your biodiesel fuel to that used as an accelerant in an arson,” Bob said.

Although in uniform, Gary flashed his badge for good measure. “We'd like to look over your client list. You do keep track of who you sell the fuel to, yes?”

“I keep records. Have to, for tax purposes.” The balding man with eyes entirely too close together hedged. “But my clients like their privacy.”

Gary let out a sigh. If fewer people watched crime-type television shows, his job would be so much easier. He glanced around the small-time operation, wondering if Fenton kept up to date with all the OSHA regulations. Time to find out. “I guess I can go get a warrant. I just wanted to avoid bringing legal attention to your business.”

Terrence's beady eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, legal attention?”

“Oh, we have a mountain of paperwork we have to go through to get a warrant. Every time we fill out everything, the system feels like it needs to check up on all aspects of the company we put in the paperwork. OSHA, IRS…you know, all the alphabetsoupers.” He shrugged as if he didn't care one way or the other. “I thought maybe you'd like to avoid all that hassle, but it doesn't matter to me.”

Terrence's cheeks inflated like a puffer fish. “You know, I don't see an issue with letting you have a peek at my sales records over the past few weeks.”

Bingo! Gary smiled. “We'd sure appreciate that.”

The business owner set a large, blue ledger on the counter and flipped it open. He stopped on a page. “These are my buyers for the past month.” He turned the book toward Gary and Bob.

Gary took out his notebook and copied down names.

“Shows eight buyers,” Bob commented.

“Yep, that sounds about right.”

“All of these regulars of yours?” Gary asked.

“Ummm.” Terrence pulled a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. “That one, and him, oh, and them, too, are.”

Gary made checks in his notes beside the names Terrence had indicated.

Bob studied the ledger. “So, only two of these are new customers?” He leaned closer to the paper and read. “Kevin Haynie and Niles Patterson. That right?”

“Yep, them two I didn't know.”

Gary peered at his notes. “Do the buyers have to fill out any paperwork on purchases?”

“Order forms, yeah.”

“May we have a copy of the order forms on Haynie and Patterson?”

Terrence hedged again. “Giving you a copy, with their addresses and all…that's more than letting you have a peek.”

“Suit yourself. Warrant or no, it's your call.” Gary held his breath, hoping the old man bought the bluff. A warrant would take a bit and Gary could feel the adrenaline spurting through his veins—they were on the right track, he felt it.

Terrence scratched hair that had long since fallen out. “I guess just those two orders won't be a problem. After all, it's not like they're regulars or anything.”

Gary waited while the man found the invoices, made copies on the battered copier, then handed them over.

“We certainly appreciate your help.” Gary handed his business card to Terrence. “If you think of anything else, anybody maybe not listed on your ledger who bought some fuel the past month or so, please give me a call.”

Terrence pocketed the card. Gary could almost envision him ripping it up and throwing it away as soon as they were out the door. He couldn't do anything about that. Nodding to Bob, he turned and left the musky building.

Bob wandered toward the tanks instead of the cruiser.

“What're you doing?”

“Checking out the system.” Bob leaned over and inspected the pump on top.

“And?” Gary shifted his weight and glanced toward the building. Was Terrence standing at that single window, staring at them and wondering what they were doing scrutinizing his setup without a warrant?

“Well, I don't think someone could just walk up and steal fuel with this system in place.” Bob straightened and continued to study the tank's discharge structure. “At least not enough to have been used in the fire. There was a lot used as the accelerant.”

“So the person had to have bought it, yes?”

Bob narrowed his eyes as he stared at the warehouse. “Or had available access to the tanks.”

The implication came across loud and clear. Either the arsonist had to buy the fuel, or got it free from Terrence.

Like his son could.

 

Talk about tangled nerves. Monique's were in macramé-sized knots.

Her morning had been rushed with arranging to have her new house cleaned. She'd had to pay double to ensure the job was completed by noon, but it was worth it to her. From there, she checked on the furniture she'd ordered originally for the old Pittman place. Thankfully, the warehouses hadn't had a chance to deliver it all before the fire. Now, it was set to be delivered to her new home before three. She'd also switched her utilities to the new house and was assured everything would be on immediately, and finally had gone shopping with Felicia to buy linens, curtains and dishes. And clothes. All in all, she'd accomplished a lot this morning.

She should've been pleased and excited, and she was, but as she followed Felicia into the diner, nerves got the best of her. Luc and CoCo had returned to Lagniappe, and were meeting them for lunch. Felicia had brought them up to speed on Monique, her relationship to them, the fire and purchasing Justin's house. Now she would meet them for the first time.

Would they accept her as openly as Felicia had? Or would they be cautious, suspicious? Would Luc resent her? Hate that she'd bought the house where he'd almost been murdered?

The door opened and Felicia shrieked and wove quickly around tables.

Monique's mouth went dry as north Louisiana in August. She forced her feet to move and follow Felicia, who hugged a tall, handsome man and an exotic beauty of a woman. Monique stood to the side, actually experiencing the love and security wrapping around the small group.

Never before had she felt like such an outsider, wanting so much to belong.

Felicia turned, putting her arm around Monique's waist and drawing her into the group. “Luc, CoCo, this is our cousin, Monique.” She grinned. “This goofy fella is my brother, Luc, and this gorgeous woman is my sister-in-law, CoCo.”

Monique smiled shyly. “Hi.”

CoCo peered at her from beneath long, luscious lashes. Her dark hair cascaded in long ringlets down her back. A second passed. Then another. Then another. Finally she spoke. “Welcome to the family, Monique.” She wrapped graceful arms around Monique's neck and hugged her tight.

Luc gently nudged his wife back. “Stop hogging her.” He kissed the top of CoCo's head, grinning at Monique. “Welcome.” He pulled her into his strong arms and gave her a bear hug.

Such love and acceptance…it'd been a long time since she felt so surrounded by those emotions. Nothing had moved her so strongly since the first church service after Kent had been killed. The sermon had reached in and touched her very soul, despite her grief. But then she'd had to plan and endure his funeral, and her church family had begun to walk on eggshells around her, making her feel uncomfortable.

And she'd become increasingly angry with God.

“Come, sit,
Boo.
I want to get to know you.” CoCo grabbed her hand and tugged her into the chair between her and Luc.

“Boo?”
Monique sat, confusion muddling her mind.

Felicia laughed. “It's a Cajun term of endearment. Like
cher.
”

“Oh. Hadn't heard that one before.”

Luc chuckled as he and Felicia took their seats. “You'll have to forgive us. The eldest of our siblings, we tend to call them all ‘
Boo.'”

Tears threatened to shimmer in her eyes. She swallowed hard.

“What does Deputy Anderson have to say about finding the arsonist?” Luc's eyes grew darker, if that was possible.

She told them about Bob Costigan and his questions. “I don't know more than that, I'm afraid.” The wheels of justice always moved in the slowest gear possible.

“I wish Bubba was here. He'd take care of this and keep you informed.” Luc's jaw set strongly.

“Bubba?”

CoCo laughed. “That's the sheriff, my brother-in-law. He's married to my youngest sister.”

“His name is Bubba? Really?” Monique couldn't get over that.

“His real name is René, but only Tara is brave enough to call him that to his face.” CoCo chuckled.

“Yeah, if he were here, we'd know exactly what was happening in the investigation,” Luc said.

“He and Bubba are friends,” CoCo whispered.

“Oh, Gary's been wonderful. I don't think anyone could be handling this any better.” Why Monique felt as if she had to defend him, she couldn't figure. The words snuck out before she could stop them.

“Gary?” CoCo raised her eyebrows.

Felicia nudged her sister-in-law. “He's been very, uh, attentive to this case. Even insisted Monique stay with his mother after the threat at Mom's.”

“Really?” CoCo faced Monique again. “Do tell.”

Heat fanned her face. “There's nothing to tell. He's just doing his job and being nice. That's all.”